Lifeline
by thinkture
Summary: An AU fic. What started out seemingly as a match made in heaven spiraled downward as a marriage spins out of control. But this is also a story of friendship and maternal bonds. Shelagh/Julienne, and a darker Turnadette. Rated T just in case.
1. Chapter 1

_Apologies for any holes and flaws in logic and plot. I haven't written a fic in years but the characters of Sister Julienne, Shelagh/Bernadette and Dr. Turner somewhat hit too close to home so I decided to write this. Somewhat true to life. Many thanks for reading this. _

* * *

It was perhaps just an hour before Lauds, her favorite prayer that blesses the dawn of each new day, when the telephone rang.

She was already awake, used to getting up earlier than usual to rouse the other sisters and prepare them for the prayers. As she hurriedly closed the door, she remembered that Nurse Miller was on first call but had left an hour earlier to attend to Mrs. Davis who had gone into premature labor.

"Nonnatus House."

She heard a gasp on the other end, quickly stifled, as if by a hand.

"Hello? This is Sister Julienne speaking. Are you our patient? Are you going into labor?"

And then she heard the soft choked sounds of unmistakable sobbing.

"Who is this? Are you alright? Please, let me help you. Tell me," she said as calmly as she could.

"S-s-sister…"

She would know that voice anywhere, even if it was drowning in a flood of tears. Her heart suddenly seemed to be gripped in a vise so tight, she couldn't breathe herself.

"Shelagh? Shelagh, is that you? What is wrong? Tell me."

She only heard more stifled sobbing on the other end, and with each strangled breath, she grew more concerned.

"What is wrong? Are you in pain?"

"I… I don't know…don't know what to do anymore."

Anguish. Pure anguish with every word, each a stab to her heart.

Already she could hear the soft steps of the other Nonnatus nuns as they filed into chapel for the morning office.

"You… you should go, Sister," Shelagh whispered brokenly. "I know it's time for Lauds and…I wish…"

"You wish what, my dear?"

Silence except the soft sobs on the end of the line.

"I wish I was there."

There was a few seconds of silence that seemed to go on for so long Sister Julienne thought Shelagh had broken off the connection.

"It was a mistake."

_This was supposed to be a one-shot but it seems like this might run a few chapters. Reviews are very much welcome._


	2. Chapter 2

Writing something quite personal is harder than I thought. Many thanks for your appreciation of my little fic so far! I hope this one will also be to your liking. :)

* * *

At the clinic, she waited for Shelagh to come. Since her marriage to Dr. Turner, Shelagh had continued to work as a midwife and nurse, but only during the day. She looked after both Timothy and the doctor now, and with Dr. Turner responding to most late-night or emergency calls, somebody had to look after the boy.

While initially the former nun seemed despondent at not being able to fully help her fellow midwives and former sisters, Sister Julienne saw that Shelagh embraced the role of mother to Timothy wholeheartedly. The boy was clearly thriving in her care, and always looked at her with worshipful eyes. More often than not, she heard from Chummy and Fred that Timothy's sentences were always nearly punctuated with "My mum Shelagh."

Sister Julienne asked Nurse Franklin to take over Shelagh's duties, telling Trixie that Shelagh wasn't feeling well that morning.

"Must be interesting times then, Sister, don't you think?" Trixie winked conspiratorially.

"I wouldn't really know," she said truthfully, while hoping that perhaps there might be a different cause for her former charge's distress.

Sister Julienne left instructions to be rung at Nonnatus House should Mrs. Turner appear for her duties at the clinic that afternoon, while she dealt with some important correspondence in her office.

But in the end, all she could do was sit in silence at her desk and pray.

~.~

Breakfast was becoming more of a silent affair lately at the Turners. Thankfully, Timothy still seemed oblivious to the growing tension between his father and his stepmother.

"Dad, may I go to the clinic after school and wait there for you and Mum?" he asked while taking a bite of toast.

"I have to stay longer at the hospital today, Timothy," he replied without looking up from the newspaper he was reading. "I might be home a little late tonight, too."

At this, Shelagh looked up from the coffee she was pouring, looking a little anxious.

"I… I thought you were staying late tomorrow, not tonight," she said diffidently.

He gave her a short, sharp glance.

"I have to."

She felt the reproach, the subtle rebuke. It had been like that these past few weeks. At first she thought it might have been an adjustment period for the two of them, being newlyweds and all.

_All newly married couples surely go through the same thing_, she thought.

But with each day, she felt her husband becoming more withdrawn, more quick-tempered. That was so unlike him.

"But Dad, you were supposed to help me with my lessons tonight," Timothy pressed, looking up at his father. "You promised."

That stung Shelagh. She and her husband had agreed that they would make time for Timothy, Patrick most of all, to make up for the past when it was just the two of them, wifeless and motherless.

She was about to appeal again on the boy's behalf when Patrick stood up abruptly, pushed his chair back and walked out of the kitchen without a word.

His sudden exit subdued them into silence. Timothy quietly placed his breakfast back onto his plate and bowed his head. Shelagh could only look at the doorway through which her husband walked through.

_He's never done this before_, was all she could think

Taking Timothy's hand in hers firmly, she gave it a reassuring squeeze.

"Don't worry, Tim," she whispered gently, while placing her arm around his shoulders.

"I'm here."


	3. Chapter 3

**_UPDATE: Some editing made for this chapter. Thank you for reading. :)_**

* * *

This time around, she was quite fully awake when the call came.

As soon as she heard the hitched breath on the other end, she knew.

"I'm here, Shelagh," she said simply.

It took a while before the sobs finally slowed down.

"I… Sister-…I'm s-s-sorry," she hiccupped into the telephone. "You shouldn't be up at this hour. I shouldn't really be wasting your t-t-time."

Awash with sadness at the voice, Julienne could only reply, "You never have to apologize to me, my dear."

Taking a deep breath herself, she made a tremulous request.

"Tell me what is making you sad, Shelagh – I am here to listen."

Those words were like air to her, easing a little of the suffering she had been feeling for so long.

_I shouldn't lose hope but I never really thought it would turn out this way._

"It's Patrick," she whispered. "Something ails him. And I don't know what to do."

~.~.~

It started small, she tells Sister Julienne. He came home late from the hospital and was a bit standoffish and moody. Timothy was in bed by then and his dinner had grown cold.

He wasn't pleased by that and told her so, curtly.

She chalked it to the pressure in his work, as more and more responsibilities were required of medical professionals as the National Health Service continued to move forward.

The next time, he had slammed his saucer into the kitchen sink, breaking it, and rendering her and Timothy silent.

She had merely asked him if things were still busy at the hospital.

That was his reply. He walked out without a word again.

That night, he was quiet, his shoulders hunched, and got into bed brusquely, turning out the light, his back to her.

In the darkness, her tears fell and she tried so hard to keep her body from trembling with the sobs.

~.~.~

It took all of Sister Julienne's strength to deal with the everyday tasks at Nonnatus – births, deaths, pain, comfort, care and support. She was trained in dealing with childbirth, with illnesses, with old age, with wounds.

But how do you soothe a heart that is breaking right before your very eyes?

Many nights, she would find herself staying near the telephone, in case it was Shelagh calling. More often than not, it was a patient, and she was only too glad to refer it to the midwife on call.

Some days, it was that voice gone ragged and raw from too much crying, from words left unspoken, from pain left unhealed.

She found a little solace in the daily office. The prayers and plainsong calmed her mind and spirit, and it was then she begged help from the Almighty, often, on her knees, in the silence of the chapel.

What could she give this child?

~.~.~

Dr. Turner no longer came to the ante-natal clinic on Tuesdays as well. More often than not, a locum came in his place. She noticed that when Dr. Turner was away on these days, Shelagh came.

Try as she might, she knew that Shelagh would never talk of her problem at work. Always, she tearfully apologized for keeping Sister Julienne away from rest, from patients, from prayers.

And always, Julienne could only soothe her with words, while she really wanted to give Shelagh the comfort and safety of Nonnatus House.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Thank you to all those who have left feedback for this story. My muse abandoned me for a while but now making up for it with two chapters. **_

**UPDATE:** **_Some editing made for this chapter. Thank you for reading. :)_**

* * *

The Great Silence had already begun when she heard an urgent knock on her bedroom door.

"Sister Julienne, I am truly sorry to bother you but…," Jane breathlessly spoke, having never quite lost her nervousness just yet.

"You're needed urgently downstairs."

She was already grabbing her dressing gown as she followed Jane down the corridor.

"What is it, is it an emergency? A patient?" she asked, concern written all over her face.

Jane stopped and looked at her wordlessly for a few moments.

"It's Sister Bernadette, Sister. You better come quick."

~.~.~

She could only be so gentle as she carefully wiped a washcloth over Shelagh's pale, tear-streaked face, taking care to only dab at the angry red welt on her cheek.

They brought her to her old room, she and Jane, careful not to wake the other nuns. Thankfully, Nurse Lee and Nurse Miler were away on call and Trixie was asleep.

Jane brought hot water, soap and towels, carefully laying them on the dresser. She stood in the half-opened door, looking at the sad little tableau before her eyes, before nodding to Sister Julienne and closing it.

Shelagh never made a sound but her eyes continued to well up with tears, running down unceasingly on her cheeks.

When Sister Julienne made to remove her blouse, the sleeves snagged on her fingers, and she made a small cry.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Shelagh," she apologized.

It was then that she saw the bruises on her wrists, the small cuts on her palms, some still fresh, others starting to scar.

"Oh…"

She could not look away, could not comprehend what she was seeing.

In her weathered hands, she took Shelagh's wounded ones, clasped it to her chest, and looked at her in the face.

"Oh Shelagh, my darling," was all she could murmur.

And Shelagh, her blue eyes now dull and looking lifeless, finally looked at her in the face. And there was only pain, regret and fear written there.

"I had to get us away," she spoke so softly, the words catching in her throat. "He's suddenly a stranger to us."

Her hands shook as she gripped Julienne's.

"I had nowhere else to go but here, Sister."

"Help me," she whispered brokenly.

She fell into the older nun's arms, her whole body wracked with sobs, her bleeding palms staining Sister Julienne's dressing gown.

And her heart, both their hearts, broke into a million little pieces.


	5. Chapter 5

**_Some editing made for this chapter. Thank you for reading. :)_**

* * *

He came home to an empty house. But it wasn't really empty though. To his surprise, Sister Julienne was waiting for him in the sitting room.

"Good evening, Doctor Turner," she said politely, standing up from her seat.

He was surprised, but then he shouldn't be really. He'd known that at some point, Shelagh would need Sister Julienne. He believes he now does too.

It took him a few seconds to answer the nun.

"Sister Julienne-… Please… please sit," he gestured to the couch.

Finding the sister in charge of Nonnatus House – his wife's superior before when she was a nun – in his home, looking at him so steadily unnerved Patrick Turner. But this was Sister Julienne, who was a colleague in a way, a sister in arms, one in whom he held with the utmost respect because of the work she and the Nonnatus nuns do for the community. He was not a member of any church, and despite knowing several vicars and pastors in his work, he realized that he, like Shelagh, placed their utmost trust in this small but reassuring presence that was Sister Julienne.

Her voice brought him out of his thoughts.

"I think you know why I'm here, Dr. Turner," she said without preamble.

"I think I do, Sister. I only wish it was under different circumstances, like the last few times," he said quietly. He bowed his head.

There were times when they had the sisters over for tea or dinner, sometimes, the midwives as well. He knew his wife missed the kinship she shared with these women. In the course of his work, and now even more so because of his marriage to Shelagh, he had grown to accept them as his wife's family as well.

"I must reassure you that I am not here to interfere," she tells him gently.

"Timothy is apparently with his grandmother and safe," she explains further. "And Shelagh is with us."

There was silence for a few seconds as this statement sunk into his mind.

He finally summons a little courage to look at Julienne in the eye.

"I know that Sister. I told her to go and take Timothy and herself somewhere safer," he said quietly, firmly.

"I couldn't bear to see them suffering on my account. I couldn't stomach what I had become to my own family. "

He stopped, unable to go on, and put his face into his hands, breathing deeply and fighting the swirl of emotions inside.

A small gentle, weathered hand touched him on his wrist.

"You are husband and wife now, and I would never ever come between the two of you. If you need my help, I will only be glad to give it," she said softly.

He could not face her. Not in light of what he had done to his wife, to his son. The harsh words and then cold cold silence sometimes. And then finally, it became physical.

He thought he knew himself, knew his limits. He had been in the war and had seen the brutality of men with his own eyes.

And now, this.

"Sister, I want to tell you… I'm truly sorry for what I've done," he choked out. "I would never ever hurt Shelagh or Timothy. But it's been so difficult, I didn't want to burden them at first. But that made it all the worse for everyone."

He raised his head and in his eyes, Julienne only saw helplessness, fear, and brokenness. She had never seen him like this before. The turmoil inside this man was deep.

"You see, at the hospital, they said I'd killed a patient…" he began.


	6. Chapter 6

**_Apologies for the lack of updates. Not that anyone noticed I'm sure. :)_**

* * *

It was hard to keep a secret in Nonnatus House, especially given that it involved one of the midwives and the doctor. It was far easier for Sister Julienne to tell them the relevant facts of why Shelagh was back and why she never went out of her bedroom.

The news, of course, was met with stunned silence but how they chose to react was something that made her truly thankful she was among these extraordinary women.

Without being told, Nurses Lee, Miller, Franklin and on occasion, Chummy Noakes – when she can be spared by her motherly and wifely duties, aside from the midwifery - took it upon themselves to assist in caring for Shelagh. They filled in the gaps when Sister Julienne or Sister Evangelina – the only nuns Shelagh would see - were far too busy, though these two always managed to come by Shelagh's room each day, even if only to sit and hold her hand in prayer for a few minutes.

During the night, one of the younger ones usually stayed near Shelagh, often falling asleep in the very uncomfortable hard-backed spare chair in her room, in case she woke up crying from her nightmares again.

But it was Jane, dear Jane, who rose to the challenge. Seeing as she couldn't go on night calls unlike the midwives, she was the one who stayed at Shelagh's bedside nearly every night. Simply holding her hand as she wept silent sobs, or reading the Bible during the day as Shelagh wordlessly stared out of the window.

Jane had known suffering, Julienne thought, as she watched how quietly and gently the other woman tended to her charge.

~.~.~

Time heals all wounds, they say. But for every wound, there will always be a scar left behind as a reminder.

A few weeks after Sister Julienne's conversation with Doctor Turner, the man himself came to Nonnatus House at last.

Shelagh had asked for him. She was ready, she had told Sister Julienne.

Answering the door herself, she gestured for him to enter, which he did with uncertainty. So unlike what he used to do before, when he came politely, respectfully but with confidence and urgency when it came to asking the sisters for help or enlightenment about certain cases.

It seemed he had aged ten years in in such a short period of time. The gray in his hair was more noticeable now, his eyes showed bleakness, and his shoulders stooped in defeat.

He gave her a bleak smile.

"I came, Sister. Even though I know I don't deserve to be here; I don't deserve to be welcomed at all," he said quietly.

She was thankful that Sister Evangelina was out; the older nun had made her opinions known about Dr. Turner ever making an appearance in Nonnatus since Shelagh had sought refuge.  
"She asked for you," she simply said, while leading the man outside to the garden bench situated near the perimeter wall.

She had decided that the garden afforded better privacy for the couple to talk, rather than in the sitting room where they could be overheard.

"Please wait here while I fetch her," she said. "Would you like some tea?"

He declined politely. He simply wanted to see Shelagh and hear what she had to say. The only question he couldn't ask himself was if he was ready to accept what she had to say.

~.~.~

It seemed unnatural that it was such a beautiful mid-summer's day when so much hung heavily in her heart and soul.

As she stood half-hidden near the door to the garden, she caught a glimpse of her husband's weary form on the garden bench, his head in his hands. A figure of defeat.

Wasn't it just over a year ago when they spoke their vows in front of each other, in front of God? To love and to cherish? In sickness and in health? Did they both not pledge to be of comfort to each other, to be each other's companion in life's journey, wherever it may take them? And that journey that started on that misty road, when everything else was a blur, and all that was clear were what they felt for each other.

He felt her sit beside him. And saw her small delicate hands clasped together, just as tightly as his did. And how he ached to hold those gentle fingers again.

"Patrick"

"Hello, Shelagh."


	7. Chapter 7

_The last chapter. Thanks to those who left reviews and waited patiently. I'm really very grateful and I hope this last one isn't too bad. _

* * *

For a moment, that was all they could say to each other, couldn't even look at each other in the eyes. They were sitting a few inches apart; the physical gap was scant but the emotional one was terrifyingly huge.

Finally, he spoke.

"I'm grateful that you wanted to see me. And that Sister Julienne seems to be taking good care of you," he said.

_Because you couldn'_t, an inner voice told him.

"But please, allow me to explain – you deserve to know," he said. "And after which, you can make your decision."

He told her all of it – his cancer-stricken patient, the poor man's pleadings to be allowed to die, his own struggle at seeing the man's suffering and the hopelessness he felt.

And how in the end, the man had managed to end his own life, but at great cost to Patrick Turner's career as a doctor. He had died of a self-induced morphine overdose, the bottle marked with the doctor's prescription still on the table.

The ensuing investigation by a committee in the hospital resulted that in his suspension. With that came the whispers in the corridors, the suspicious looks that he had to endure among the doctors and nurses alike. There were a few who firmly vouched for him, but otherwise, he became a pariah.

He endured it for weeks until the committee concluded its investigation and ruled that he had played no part in his patient's death.

He was cleared again, but it had taken an immense toll on his family and marriage.

She had stayed silent all this time while he confessed it all to her, so careful was she to stay still. She had learned to stay still.

"I've always known I didn't deserve you, Shelagh," he said, choking out his words.

"Even more so now. I regret that all this happened. All of it."

As she heard those words, she finally faced him and asked the question that had been running through her mind since she sought refuge at Nonnatus House.

"Do you regret our marriage as well?" she asked quietly, her eyes gazing into his steadily.

Her words shocked him.

"Shelagh, no! You were the best thing to come in my life, in Timothy's," he said, finally taking the courage to hold her hand. "And I'm so ashamed of the way I treated you."

"I am truly sorry, Shelagh. For causing you so much pain," he whispered.

"Will you forgive me?"

_Who decides what is forgivable and unforgivable?_

"Patrick, you never promised me a rose garden," she spoke. "And I never expected that our married life would always be a peaceful one."

She gripped his hands in her own, willing him to look into her face.

"Forgive yourself first, and then we can start over. Because I want to, and because my place on this earth is always and only by your side," she said softly, tears pooling in her eyes.

**~.~.~**

Sister Evangelina, who had been walking by the corridor on the way back from Sister Julienne's office, happened to glance out the window overlooking the garden.

Her hand involuntarily went to her heart as she witnessed Shelagh and Patrick embracing each other in the garden, holding on as if they were the sole survivors of an apocalypse.

_Which they are, come to think of i_t, she thought.

In that moment, all her reservations and indignation about the doctor melted. She could only feel relief and profound gratitude that husband and wife were reunited.

She felt a hand on her shoulder, and saw Sister Julienne with tears in her eyes as she witnessed the joyous reunion.

Soon enough, Shelagh and Patrick came through the door, their faces reflecting renewed happiness.

Patrick Turner turned to Sister Julienne with a smile on his face.

"Sister, may I use your telephone?"

A look of surprise accompanied her assent.

"Of course, Dr. Turner. I hope it's nothing urgent."

Shelagh turned to her husband with a beatific smile making her face glow.

"It is, Sister. We have to tell Timothy the good news that we're all going home."

_**The End**_


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